I stand here in these streets,
these roads of black and steel,
the sky a slit, the wink of God,
a rainbow of sapphire cutting a field of gray and glass.
I hear the chorus of others,
my sisters and brothers,
As they surge around me,
carrying me in their pulse which is the electric beat of light;
walk, don’t, red, green,
the valve of yellow between.
They are my kind, my people,
even those who are my enemies, who would do me harm.
Touch us one and touch the lot;
the corpus of the city will know,
by word of mouth, by word of air,
by the silent, countless means that cities net their works.
We do not live in peace,
we are not lost in love,
we do not think but one thought,
but we are what we are and would not be alone.
These bones of glass, these wire nerves,
what mindless soul this body serves --
mindless amid countless thoughts --
which serve in turn its host: machines within the ghost.
That is but matter, flesh of stone,
and cannot move itself alone
but quickened by the spirit,
spirits in the blood, its million hopes and billion dreams.
Think that we can stand apart?
Can some science or art
make Man of men without
this blood we are, carrying good and ill to and fro?
Spirit rises from the breath,
moves to life and on to death,
but not without the sheath of flesh;
so can blood not live apart from vein and wind and limb and heart.
See this sea of we
and see what you will see;
whether you can be one who hears
the music of its spheres or fears its shadows and its heights.
If the latter, you are strong,
while I am weaker in my ways;
for I would not live on a plane
but swim the depths and ride the skies of glass and steel and stone;
I would not remain as one
when millions beckon me to join
the craft of being what we are:
this human flow of do and be and yes and know.
- Location: please be between 30 -45
- it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests